IS YOUR LIFE STABLE?

An older man had serious hearing problems for many years. He went to the doctor and the doctor was able to have him fitted for a set of hearing aids that allowed the man to hear 100%.

The old man went back in a month to the doctor and the doctor said, “Your hearing is perfect. Your family must be really pleased that you can hear again.”

The man replied, “Oh, I haven’t told my family yet. I just sit around and listen to their conversations. I’ve changed my Will six times!”

In this week’s portion Vayeitzei, the twelve tribes of Israel are born. After birth, each of the children is given a name by his mother, coupled with the meaning of the name.

I want to focus today on one very interesting name given to one of them by his mother Leah, a name still used today in the Jewish world (as is with all the twelve names of the tribes): Zevulun.

The name Zevulun is a derivative of the word zevul, which means a stable and permanent home, a fixed dwelling place. (King Solomon calls the first Holy Temple, he built “Beit Zevul,” G-d’s permanent dwelling place.) With the birth of this child, Leah said, “Now, my husband will, at last, reside with me”. 

Yaakov’s principal residence will be only with me because I have as many sons as all his other wives combined.

Rabbi Isaac Luria writes that your given name is not merely a product of your parents’ personal preference; rather, G-d endows parents with the wisdom to choose names that are uniquely associated with their child’s soul. The name Zevulun, therefore, must signify not only the milestone that Leah reached with Zevulun’s birth, but also the nature and chemistry of this specific child.

Yet it is here where we get stuck.

From all the tribes of Israel, the one least associated with stability was Zevulun! As Jacob himself testifies and predicts about his son Zevelun:

Zevulun was to become a seasoned sea traveler. He was a businessman, who traversed the globe, to buy and sell merchandise. From all the tribes of Israel, it was his vocation that represented the very opposite of steadiness, constancy, and permeance. He was never in one place; always on the run.

In contrast to Yissachar remaining in the tents, dwelling in one space, serene and calm, Zevulun is the entrepreneur, the one always “going out.”

The Rebbe gives a beautiful explanation.

There are two forms of serenity in life. There is the serenity of heavenly paradise and the serenity of earth.

An example of the first would be the serenity of a retired man, who has not a worry in the world. He is the man who can say of himself: I am worry-free, burden-free, and stress-free. My mortgage is paid up. My kids graduated, so no tuition bills anymore.  I am comfortable. My health is not failing me. Life is perfect. I am serene…

 There is another form of serenity. I may have 101 items on my to-do-list. I am bombarded and shelled by never-ending stresses, duties, and pressures, inundated by hundreds of demands on my time, resources, and mental space. Yet, I am serene, not because I have nothing to do, but because I am grounded in the cradle of all peacefulness. 

There once was a King who offered a prize to the artist who would paint the best picture of peace. Many artists tried. The King looked at all the pictures, but there were only two he really liked, and he had to choose between them.

One picture was of a calm lake. The lake was a perfect mirror, for peaceful towering mountains were all around it. Overhead was a blue sky with fluffy white clouds. All who saw this picture thought that it was a perfect picture of peace.

The other picture had mountains, too. But these were rugged and bare. Above was an angry sky from which rain fell and in which lightening played. Down the side of the mountain tumbled a foaming waterfall. This did not look peaceful at all. But when the King looked, he saw behind the waterfall a tiny bush growing in a crack in the rock. In the bush, a mother bird had built her nest. There, in the midst of the rush of angry water, sat the mother bird on her nest in perfect peace and calm.

Which picture would you choose? The King chose the second picture.

Because explained the King, peace does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble, or hard work. Peace means to be in the midst of all those things and still be calm in your heart. That is the real meaning of peace. It is the ability to be in the eye of the storm—around you a storm rages, but you are internally tranquil.

 It does not matter whether it rains or shines, or what changes come your way, you are always sweet, serene, and calm.

What is a Jew? Someone asked the holy master Reb Yitzchak Vorker. “To be a Jew,” he said, “is to dance while you are sitting in one place; to scream while you are silent, and to be alone even when you are among a thousand people.”

This captures the true depth, power, and connectedness of the human soul. It is easy to remain calm and happy in an isolated cocoon, in a heavenly oasis. This does not prove anything. The true nature of my soul and my infinite rootedness in the source of all light and peace emerges in those moments when the whirlwinds are raging, yet I remain anchored in the loving embrace of the Divine.

Think of your own challenges or those of your loved ones. At times, they have shaken you up, to your core. You cried you sobbed, you felt anger, pain, loneliness, betrayal, fear, and hopelessness. You felt anything but stable, firm, centered. You felt uprooted, vulnerable to the brutal forces of nature.

But when you allowed those feelings to be, giving them their space, not trying to suppress them,  and you allowed yourself to be completely vulnerable, raw, and open;  you felt a certain calmness. Not the one that is immune to the flux and vicissitudes of life, but one that is born from it; the one that emerges from the ability of your soul to find G-d holding on to you in the confusion and darkness. It is the serenity born from the light buried in the depths of the abyss when you allow yourself to gaze at it.

A Jew comes to the holy Rebbe of Rhizhin. He complains that he has no time to study or pray; he lacks the mental space, calmness, serenity, and the time required for proper prayer and concentration. The Rebbe says to him: “And who says G-d wants you to pray and learn when you have time, and amid plenty of calmness? Maybe He wants you to learn, pray and connect to Him when you have no time and no extra mental space? Maybe he wants you to have serenity when you don’t have serenity?!”

We often wait till we are relaxed, centered, anchored, and happy, in order to be relaxed, centered, anchored and happy…. But that is not how life in this world works. The souls and angels in heaven enjoy that type of calmness, like tranquil waters, with a slight breeze, in one of those perfectly balanced days. But as the expression goes: “A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for.” It is in this world where we manage to achieve a far deeper feat: to be able to embrace our pain, confusion, tears, and struggles, give them to G-d, and discover within that space our deepest connection to the source of all oneness and peacefulness.

Thus it is Zevulun, the symbol of a life of change and flux, the one who takes the ship out of the harbor into the tumultuous waters, who was given the name that represents stability, permanence, and firmness. Because in many ways, his stability is one that can never be shattered and destroyed. When does a marriage develop into an unbreakable bond? When we can talk about that which makes us drift apart from each other; when we can address the most vulnerable, weakest part of the link between us—and find trust there. When we can learn to repair the relationship after it has been challenged.

That is what the soul learns during its journey of life on this earth. Not everything will always be perfect and calm. Sometimes, a curveball might sweep you off your feet and you feel like your choking or drowning. But it is at such moments when you will—if you remain present and open—discover your deepest connection to G-d, to the truth, to authenticity.

This is what our mother Leah sensed about her son Zevulun. Jacob’s will discover his permanent home and identity through his attributes. The Jew will discover his truest joy and serenity via the journeys of Zevulun. “Rejoice Zevulun in your departures,” Moses says.

We have to realize that times of stress are also times that are signals for growth, and if we use adversity properly, we can grow tremendously.

Each of us is a Zevulun, in our own way. We are each confronted by the hassles of life, each of us in our own way. Do not fear them. On the contrary, they are there to bring out the best and the deepest in yourself.

When amidst everything going on in your life dedicates time each day, especially on Shabbat, to study Torah, to pray, to connect to G-d, it brings to the fore a far deeper, more permanent and eternal relationship, which no force in the world can destroy. It achieves the purpose for which G-d created our earth, to “make a dwelling place for the Divine in this world.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Yoseph Geisinsky